WWI Centennial: Revolution in Russia

Erik Sass is covering the events of the war exactly 100 years after they happened. This is the 269th installment in the series.  

March 8, 1917: Revolution in Russia

After two and a half years of war, with around eight million casualties including two million dead, and mounting shortages and official incompetence undermining whatever support remained for the tsarist regime, the vast Russian Empire was tottering on the brink of revolution. Over a million deserters were at loose ends in big cities like Petrograd and Moscow, where they mixed with factory workers angry about rising food prices and stagnant wages, and a number of long-term strikes and lockouts were already underway, with around 20,000 workers for example locked out of the Putilov Iron Works.

Nature played a capricious role in these fateful weeks, as a brutally cold winter amplified the suffering but also kept people off the streets – until early March, that is, when the deep freeze suddenly broke and unseasonably warm weather brought hundreds of thousands of people out to celebrate International Women’s Day on March 8, 1917 (February 23 in the old Russian calendar, which is why the events which followed are often called the February Revolution). 

Founded in 1911 by the international socialist movement to recognize women’s labor and advocate for civil rights, especially suffrage, International Women’s Day already had strong political overtones. Against the backdrop of war however it assumed much broader significance, as female textile workers defied orders not to strike and began marching through Petrograd under the rallying cry “Bread and Peace.” They were soon joined by male and female workers from other factories in a show of solidarity, and the marches quickly snowballed into a mass strike, with over 100,000 protesters in the streets. 

This was hardly a disastrous turn of events for the regime in itself: there had been plenty of mass strikes before, and while they occasionally turned violent (due in no small part to suppression by police and Cossack units) they usually subsided after minor concessions on wages or other economic issues. However the protests on March 8 came not long after the Russian parliament, the Duma, reconvened after a month-long delay on February 27 – a coincidence that helped turn strikes into revolution.  

Infuriated by rumors – true, as it turned out – that Tsar Nicholas II had considered dissolving the Duma until new elections in December 1917, the usually fractious liberal reform parties joined forces with their socialist counterparts to unleash a withering rhetorical assault on the tsarist government. Encouraged by this high-level support, even more strikers came out on March 9, with up to 200,000 protesters in the streets. Concerned that the situation was getting out of hand the military governor of Petrograd, General Khabalov, ordered the police to set up barricades on key bridges across the Neva and disperse the protesters. Ominously however many of the Cossack units, usually ultra-loyal enforcers of the tsarist regime, seemed hesitant to brutalize unarmed civilians, and several protests turned violent, as rioters looted food stores and clashed with police.

Sensing opportunity socialist revolutionaries (including the rival Menshevik and Bolshevik factions) now began to play a more active role, organizing new actions with explicitly political aims, and March 10 saw the biggest protests of the war so far, with up to 300,000 people in the streets. Some protesters carried red banners calling for revolution, and crowds sang the “Marseillaise,” the French revolutionary anthem adopted as the rallying cry of socialist movements around the world. Even upper class folk found themselves swept up in the spreading chaos, according to an anonymous British embassy official, believed to be the diplomatic courier Albert Henry Stopford, who wrote in his diary on March 10, 1917:

I had put on my boots and my trousers when I heard a sound which I knew, but couldn’t recall. I opened my window wide and realised it was the chatter of a machine-gun; then I saw an indescribable sight – the well-dressed Nevski crowd running for their lives down the Michail Street, and a stamped of motor-cards and sledges – to escape from the machine-guns which never stopped firing. I saw a well-dressed lady run over by an automobile, a sledge turn over and the driver thrown into the air and killed. The poorer-looking people crouched against the walls; many others, principally men, lay flat in the snow. Lots of children were trampled on, and people knocked down by the sledges or by the rush of the crowd. It all seemed so unjust. I saw red. 

However even at this late stage it might have been possible for some combination of political and economic concessions to defuse the crisis. But the tsarist regime once again displayed an unerring ability to do the exact wrong thing at the wrong time. 

Nicholas II, isolated at his military headquarters in Mogilev about 500 miles south of the capital, heard sketchy reports of mounting protests and scattered violence, but was misled about the seriousness of the situation by Interior Minister Protopopov, who reported the disorder but downplayed its true extent. Convinced it was just another economic strike, the Tsar ordered General Khabalov to disperse the protests by force and threats to conscript male workers who continued to strike.

On March 11 Petrograd was gripped by violence, as thousands of protesters gathered in Znamenskii Square and refused to disperse, prompting the commander of the Volynskii Guard Regiment to order his troops to open fire. Forty protesters were killed in the resulting chaos. Meanwhile Nicholas II also ordered the long-discussed dissolution of the Duma, whose reformist elements he (correctly) believed were encouraging the revolutionary disorder. 

At first the severe measures seemed to be working, as in previous incidents – but on the evening of March 11-12 events took an unexpected turn, as the focus of revolutionary activity suddenly shifted from the workers to the soldiers of the Petrograd garrison, and civilian protests gave way to military mutiny.

Although many elements contributed to the mutiny, the main causes were plain enough: the 160,000 rank and file soldiers occupying Petrograd were living in miserable conditions, crammed together in barracks designed for a fraction of that number, with inadequate food and fuel for heat, and the threat of being sent to the front constantly hanging over their heads. When ordered by their corrupt, incompetent officers to fire on civilian protesters, some of whom might be family members or friends, they simply rebelled.  

Click to enlarge

March 12 was the turning point, as half the Petrograd garrison rose against established authority, imprisoning, beating or lynching their own officers if they resisted, and turning their guns on the hated police and Cossacks if they refused to join. Of course this only served to embolden the civilian protesters, and hundreds of thousands of striking workers joined force with the mutineers to seize control of the capital. 

It was not a bloodless revolution, but according to many accounts fighting took place amidst a weirdly celebratory mood. Professor L.-H. Grandijs, a correspondent for the French periodical L’Illustration, described the odd mix of calm and chaos along the central promenade on March 12, 1917:

At four o’clock in the afternoon, I went to the Nevsky Prospekt. I heard rifle shots everywhere. I was about to mount the stairs leading to the Anitschkov Bridge, when the crowd occupying it began to flee. Hardly had we bent our heads when a salvo burst out. The bullets whizzed over our heads, and I heard them hit the nearby houses. The crowd remained strangely calm. As soon as the fusillade was over, people came back to the Nevsky Prospekt and looked around. The first to arrive there was an eighteen-year-old girl, who was as composed as if she were attending just any kind of show. Once the first moments of fear were gone, I heard people laugh all around me.

Later, Grandijs noted that a broad cross-section of society was visible in the ranks of the revolutionaries, inevitably including some disreputable characters, who took advantage of the opportunity for some looting and petty theft:

Two men, one killed and the other wounded, were carried by on stretchers. A Red Cross automobile was loudly cheered by the crowd as it drove by. A nurse was leaning out of it, wildly waving a red handkerchief. She was cheered all along the avenue. The crowd was composed of workers, students belonging to the lower bourgeoisie, and a number of hoodlums, coming from God knows where, who were taking advantage of the disorder… At some distance, orators were addressing the crowd from the statues of the Anitschkov Bridge…

Not long afterwards the carnival-like environment was suddenly disrupted by violence, but once again the crowd showed remarkable calm and purpose, according to Grandijs:

Suddenly, rifle shots rang out again on the Liteiny Prospekt. The women began to run, and in a moment the street was deserted. Huge flames were rising from the Palace of Justice… The soldiers appearing on the Liteiny Prospekt looked tired and anxious, but also very determined, and were all armed with rifles. Then came youthful workers and students, armed with revolvers, bayonets, army rifles or hunting rifles. No one seemed to be in command, yet a certain order, stemming from a common purpose and the strength of their conviction, prevailed.

The absence of commanders raised a critical question: who was in charge now? The lack of a clear answer foreshadowed the fate of the initial “liberal” phase of the revolution. Indeed, the socialists were already planning the establishment of “soviets” or revolutionary councils to represent workers, soldiers, and other major groups in society, as a counterweight to the Duma, the only other institution with national scope and at least some semblance of democratic legitimacy. Their rivalry would effectively paralyze the country, laying the groundwork for a second revolution in November 1917 – this time, a coup by the far more radical Bolsheviks.

Paradoxically, while it led political opposition to the tsarist autocracy, the Duma’s basic legitimacy was always based on the sovereign right of the monarchy, and its moderate reformist members were unsure how or even whether they could proceed without the tsar’s approval. After deciding to ignore the tsar’s order dissolving the assembly, the Duma delayed and debated about establishing a committee to create a provisional government on March 12-13. 

Meanwhile the revolutionaries were taking matters into their own hands, according to George Lomonosov, an engineer and high-ranking officer in the military railway administration, who recalled events on March 13: 

The Committee had not yet been elected when a crowd of people brought to the Duma the newly arrested Stcheglovitoff… After Stcheglovitoff, other arrested high officials were brought in. The Committee had never given orders for any arrests. The people were catching the most hated representatives of the old regime and bringing them to the Duma.

By now everyone understood that the wave of violence could easily turn against the Duma as well, if the crowds in the street believed it was trying to block the progress of the revolution. One conservative member of the Duma, Vasily Shulgin, recalled the atmosphere of terror that prevailed as the reformists, reluctantly led by the Duma chairman Rodzianko, met in a conference room off the main chamber to establish a committee to create a provisional government:

The room barely accommodated us: the entire Duma was on hand. Rodzianko and the Elders sat behind a table… Even enemies of long standing realized that there was something equally dangerous, threatening, repulsive to them all. That something was the street, the street mob… One could feel its hot breath… That is why they were pale, their hearts constricted… Surrounded by a crowd of many thousands, on the street stalked Death. 

On March 13, 1917 the new provisional government committee led by the reformist Prince Lviv took power – or rather, gingerly received it from the revolutionary crowds. Over the next few days the politicians, terrified by the movement that brought them to power, received deputations of soldiers, civilians and police pledging their loyalty to the new government. Even members of the old regime, led by Tsar Nicholas II’s cousin Grand Duke Cyril Vladimirovich, publicly submitted to the authority of the provisional government.

Street fighting in Petrograd continued on March 14, 1917, but the revolutionaries clearly had the upper hand. Lomonosov recorded his impressions, once again noting the strange combination of ferocity and festivity:

In the city firing was still going on. Here and there, from the roofs, machine guns were firing. Groups of soldiers, workmen and students were storming these roofs. The first glance at the streets showed speeding trucks, full of revolutionists. There were also many broken-down and overturned automobiles. But in general the atmosphere was happy and invigorating. Notwithstanding the firing, the streets were full of people, many women and children. In some places we saw attempts to decorate the houses with red flags. The atmosphere was like that of a holiday – like Easter.

Lomonosov’s account also confirms the importance of control of communications during the Russian Revolution – especially telephones, which were manned by a full-time volunteer force of engineering students: 

That called up some of their friends and by noon, I had at my disposition about twenty energetic students of the Institute. Each of the three men on watch at the telephone had four students to run his errands and the rest of them remained at my disposal. But even this staff proved insufficient. Those on watch at the telephones were exhausted. It was necessary to appoint an assistant to each of them. 

Meanwhile Tsar Nicholas II, realizing too late the severity of the situation, was trying to return from Mogilev to his palace outside Petrograd at Tsarskoe Selo, but his train was blocked by troops sympathetic to the revolution and diverted to Pskov, the headquarters of the Russian Army’s northern sector on the Eastern Front. Here he received discouraging messages from General Alekseev, second in command of the Army under Nicholas II, who had decided that the old regime could no longer maintain order and – fearing that further violence in Petrograd could disrupt the war effort at the front – swiftly shifted his allegiance to the new provisional government. 

The readiness of the Russian military’s officer corps, including a good number of conservative aristocrats, to embrace or at least tolerate the provisional government would prove the decisive factor in the impending demise of the Romanov Dynasty. But in the short term many commanders were confused about who represented legitimate authority, reflecting the government’s own confusion. Anton Denikin, a Russian general, recalled the muddle of these days:

The days went by. I began to receive many – both slight and important – expressions of bewilderment and questions from the units of my corps: Who represents the Supreme Power in Russia? It it the temporary Committee which created the Provisional Government, or is it the latter? I sent an inquiry, but received no answer. The Provisional Government itself, apparently, had no clear notion of the essence of its power. 

Unfortunately the situation was about to become even more chaotic, thanks to two related developments: the abolition of officers’ authority within the army, turning all decisions over to soldiers’ committees, and the growing importance of the Petrograd soviet as a rival to the Duma.

The Fall of Baghdad 

Roughly 2,500 miles to the south, the tide was turning in Mesopotamia. Following the humiliating British defeat at Kut-el-Amara in April 1916, when 10,000 Indian and British troops were captured by the Turks after a siege lasting five months, the Indian Expeditionary Force, under Frederick Stanley Maude, received major reinforcements from India and Europe, bringing it up to a strength of seven infantry divisions and one cavalry division.

Now outnumbering the neglected Ottoman Sixth Army, with six under-strength divisions under Khalil Pasha, the IEF resumed the offensive in Mesopotamia in January 1917, advancing to Khudhaira on the Tigris River by January 18 and attacking the Hai salient on January 25, which they mostly cleared of Turkish forces by February 3. Maude renewed the assault on February 9-10, pushing the Turks back to Sannaiyat and recapturing Kut, the scene of their early humiliation, by February 24.  

The Turkish retreat now turned into a rout, and at the end of February British cavalry scouts probing enemy defenses discovered that the Ottoman Sixth Army had evacuated from Al Aziziyah. After pausing to bring up supplies, Maude again returned to the offensive, with his Anglo-Indian force reaching the ruins of the ancient Seleucid capital, Ctesiphon, also abandoned by the Turks, by March 6. 

After a fierce fight on the Diyala River south of Baghdad on March 9, on March 11 the Brits occupied Baghdad, the Ottoman capital of Mesopotamia, practically without a shot, followed by Baquba on March 18 and Fallujah on the Euphrates by March 19. 

John Tennant, a British aviator in Mesopotamia, recalled the aftermath of the British advance up the Tigris, including glimpses of the mangled Ottoman Sixth Army retreating:

Flying towards Azizieh the spectacle was amazing and horrible; dead bodies and mules, abandoned guns, waggons and stores littered the road, many of the waggons had hoisted the white flag, men and animals exhausted and starving lay prone on the ground… No scene can be so terrible as a routed army in a desert country. I turned home sickened. 

Of course the advancing Anglo-Indian troops themselves faced many of the same natural foes, including epic sandstorms that lasted for days. On March 5-6, 1917, Tennant recalled: 

The storm blew throughout the next day. The road was particularly sandy, and the army marched enveloped and choked by solid clouds of sand. It was a following wind, and as it became stirred up the dust floated forward with troops and waggons… The ground was intersected by nullahs [dry flood beds] and cut up by the columns in front. Jammed in by guns and transport, it was impossible to move forward at more than five miles an hour; it was almost dark with the intensity of the driving sand, and one could see only a few yards in front when occasionally one opened one’s eyes for fleeting glances… Spread out in marching echelons, with heads muffled up as if in the Arctic regions, the army stumbled on in the gale.

On the positive side, their arrival in Baghdad, an ancient city of around 200,000, offered some rewards in the form of fresh food. Tennant described one of the most popular refreshments: “A feature that will not be forgotten by many a British Tommy that first day in Baghdad were the oranges; for neither fresh fruit nor vegetables had we tasted for many months. Generals or Privates could bury their faces in cool, fresh oranges. I can remember the delight of it now.” Another British officer, William Ewing, confirmed that oranges were a cause for celebration: “The fresh vegetables were a real luxury after the course of bully beef and biscuits; and our weary men regaled themselves with oranges that were abundant and excellent."

See the previous installment or all entries.

20 Things to Look for While Watching John Carpenter’s Halloween

Compass International Pictures
Compass International Pictures

Horror movies don’t come simpler or more effective than Halloween, director John Carpenter’s 1978 classic that helped revitalize the slasher genre and, of course, created one of the most popular costumes of all time. Halloween sends chills down your spine with nothing more than a few piano notes and long shots of the masked Michael Myers looming in the background, stalking his victims. (Today’s masters of horror could learn a thing or two from its less-is-more potency). To paraphrase Donald Pleasence’s Dr. Sam Loomis talking about Myers, this is a story about a man made up of pure evil.

After countless sequels and franchise reboots, including David Gordon Green's new Halloween sequel starring Jamie Lee Curtis (which, strangely enough, was co-written by comedian Danny McBride), it can sometimes feel like there’s no fresh ground in Myers. But it’s worth revisiting the movie that started it all to see how many deeper nuances were hiding just below the surface of Carpenter’s sublime terror. We rounded up the strange facts, goofs, and hints to catch next time Halloween inevitably pops up on a TV screen near you.

1. THE HALLOWEEN THEME SONG IS ITS OWN CHARACTER.


The opening credits set the mood with an image of a jack-o’-lantern and the movie’s theme song, which instantly communicate that Michael Myers is on his way and you should not underestimate him. The thing about that theme song: John Carpenter, who scored the movie himself as he did with many of his movies, clearly understood its power. It plays six different times throughout the film, along with variations on it (enough to make its own drinking game).

2. HALLOWEEN HAPPENED THANKS TO ONE RICH MAN IN THE CREDITS.


After seeing Carpenter’s Assault on Precinct 13, Syrian American financier Moustapha Al Akkad put up the $300,000 budget for the director to make a movie about a psychopath who stalks babysitters. Today, the Akkad family is still involved with production of movies in the franchise.

3. JAMIE LEE CURTIS WAS A NOBODY WHEN HALLOWEEN CAME OUT.


It seems hard to fathom now, but Halloween was Jamie Lee Curtis’s feature film debut. Curtis, of course, is the daughter of Janet Leigh, who had one of the most memorable roles in a scary movie ever with Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. If you look closely, Myers’s knife of choice even resembles the one from Psycho.

4. THE TOWNS IN HALLOWEEN DON’T EXIST, THOUGH THEY’RE (SORT OF) BASED ON REAL PLACES.


Halloween is mostly set in Haddonfield, Illinois, the sleepy Midwestern town where young Michael Myers begins his murderous mayhem. He later escapes from a hospital in Smith’s Grove, Illinois. Both places are fictional, but Smiths Grove, Kentucky, is close to where John Carpenter grew up in Bowling Green, Kentucky. Haddonfield is a reference to co-writer and producer Debra Hill’s hometown of Haddonfield, New Jersey. And the shooting location for the haunted Myers home was actually Pasadena, California.

5. MICHAEL MYERS HAD AN EARLY OBSESSION WITH MASKS.


We watch a six-year-old Myers put on a clown mask that’s been discarded on the floor in the earliest Halloween scene, before he tragically kills his own sister Judith. The masks help make Myers seem human-like, yet somehow beyond human thought and reason. “The idea was to make him almost humorless, faceless,” Hill said.

6. MYERS CLEARLY HAS A TORTURED RELATIONSHIP WITH SEX.


All of the murders we see happen in the original Halloween are tied to sexual activity: Myers stabs his sister to death after she’s been fooling around with a boy. Later Annie, Lynda, and Bob all suffer similar fates after they’ve disrobed or slept together.

7. LAURIE, HOWEVER, SEEMS DOWNRIGHT CONSERVATIVE FOR 1978.


According to common horror movie logic (which Halloween helped usher in), the more of a prude you are, the more likely you are to make it through the night. So it is here: Curtis’s Laurie, especially for her age in the late 1970s, stays covered up and doesn’t kiss a single person. She also expresses embarrassment when confronted about her feelings for a classmate.

8. DR. LOOMIS ISN’T VERY GOOD AT PARKING.


Loomis pursues Myers after the killer has escaped a hospital, using his deep knowledge of the patient to track him down. But Loomis does something un-doctorly in the process: He parks in a handicapped spot, despite not having any noticeable handicap.

9. LAURIE GETS A SCHOOLING IN FATE THAT’S AN IMPORTANT CLUE.


While she’s in a high school class and Myers is lurking outside, Laurie answers a teacher’s question about destiny. It might seem like filler dialogue, but it speaks to how Myers is constantly driven back—including in later movies—into the lives of the people in Haddonfield. She says, “Costaine wrote that fate was somehow related only to religion, where Samuels felt that fate was like a natural element, like earth, air, fire, and water."

10. A MATCHBOOK HOLDS CLUES TO MYERS’S PAST (AND FUTURE).


You can see Loomis looking at a matchbook in a car with his colleague Marion Chambers early in the movie. It says: The Rabbit in Red Lounge. Loomis later finds the same matchbook after Myers steals the car, which helps lead him to the killer. The Rabbit in Red Lounge nightclub makes an appearance in Rob Zombie’s 2007 reboot of Halloween, as the place where Myers’s mother works as a dancer.

11. THERE ARE TWO BRIEF GLIMPSES OF MYERS UNDERNEATH THE MASK IN HALLOWEEN.


We barely see Myers in profile as he jumps on top of a car outside the hospital where he’s being held early in the movie, but you get a much better look at his face when Laurie pulls off his mask near the end. That is the face of actor Tony Moran, who didn’t go on to do any of the sequels, though he still became a cult icon. The masked Myers is played by Nick Castle, who’s credited simply as “The Shape."

12. LAURIE SINGS A REALLY CREEPY SONG THAT MIGHT BE ABOUT HER AND MYERS.


While Laurie walks around town and Myers pursues her, she sings a couple lyrics that sound sweet but are haunting in context: “Wish I had you all alone / Just the two of us.” Internet digging reveals that it’s not a pop song, but rather it could be a reference to her repressed romantic feelings, or a nod to what will become her ongoing connection to Myers.

13. THE KID LAURIE BABYSITS LOOKS WEIRDLY LIKE YOUNG MYERS.


Myers as a six-year-old is played by Will Sandin, with blond longer hair. The actor playing Tommy, the boy Laurie is babysitting, bears a striking resemblance to Sandin.


It could be a coincidence, but somehow we think not.

14. MYERS’S GHOULISH MASK IS ACTUALLY JUST WILLIAM SHATNER.


As Halloween didn’t have a lot of money to go around, its art director Tommy Lee Wallace bought a cheap mask at a costume store, which happened to be of William Shatner’s Captain Kirk from Star Trek. Apparently the mask didn’t look much like Shatner, anyway, which worked for the best: The filmmakers painted it and adjusted the eyeholes to provide the unsettling visage for their maniac.

15. THE MYERS HOME MAGICALLY TRANSFORMS OVER TIME.


In the opening sequence of Halloween, we see Myers walk through his family’s home on his way to killing his sister, and there’s floral wallpaper.


In a later shot, we see Loomis and Sheriff Brackett walk through the very same area of the house, and it has a different floral wallpaper. But Brackett says no one has lived in the house since the incident in 1963. So did Myers redecorate on his trip back into town?

16. JOHN CARPENTER PREVIEWED ONE OF HIS NEXT MOVIES IN HALLOWEEN.


Halloween has two movie-within-a-movie moments: The teens and the kids they’re babysitting are seen watching The Thing from Another World (1951) and Forbidden Planet (1956), both of which undoubtedly influenced Carpenter. In fact, Carpenter went on to make The Thing (1982), an adaptation of Who Goes There, the same novella on which The Thing from Another World is based.

17. A NEIGHBOR DOESN’T HELP LAURIE WHEN SHE’S IN TROUBLE.


One of the more unnerving moments in Halloween is so brief that you could easily miss it: As Laurie is being chased by Myers later in the movie, she runs to a neighboring house and screams for help. You can see an outside light turn on and an arm of someone inside looking through a window. But the person quickly walks away, leaving Laurie in harm’s way.

18. MYERS IS HARD TO KILL—EVEN BY HORROR MOVIE STANDARDS.


It became a running joke in the Halloween franchise that Myers is impossible to kill. In fact, he seems to resurrect himself on the spot, a trope that was reused in many later slasher films. In the first movie, we watch Laurie stab him once, then again in a closet with his own knife. Then Loomis shoots him multiple times, leading him to fall off the second floor of a house. But when Loomis goes to check on the body, Myers is already gone. As little Tommy puts it best, “You can’t kill the bogeyman."

19. MYERS’S AGE DOESN’T QUITE ADD UP.


Myers is supposed to be age six when Halloween begins in 1963. In 1978, then, he should about 21 years old. Yet in the end credits, the older Myers is said to be 23, which is impossible. Except, of course, in a movie.

20. CARPENTER GAVE HIMSELF A CODE NAME.


In the end credits, the music is listed as being performed by The Bowling Green Philharmonic Orchestra. Well, there is no such orchestra. Carpenter is from Bowling Green, Kentucky, and decided to gussy up his music credit. (To be fair, he did get help on the songs from a few friends.)

All screenshots via Anchor Bay Entertainment.

12 Surprising Facts About Bela Lugosi

Mabel Livingstone/Hulton Archive/Getty Images
Mabel Livingstone/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

On October 20, 1882—136 years ago today—one of the world's most gifted performers was born. In his heyday, Bela Lugosi was hailed as the undisputed king of horror. Eighty-five years after he first donned a vampire’s cape, Lugosi's take on Count Dracula is still widely hailed as the definitive portrayal of the legendary fiend. But who was the man behind the monster?

1. HE WORKED WITH THE NATIONAL THEATER OF HUNGARY.

To the chagrin of his biographers, the details concerning Bela Lugosi’s youth have been clouded in mystery. (In a 1929 interview, he straight-up admitted “for purposes of simplification, I have always thought it better to tell [lies] about the early years of my life.”) That said, we do know that he was born as Béla Ferenc Dezső Blaskó on October 20, 1882 in Lugoj, Hungary (now part of Romania). We also know that his professional stage debut came at some point in either 1901 or 1902. By 1903, Lugosi had begun to find steady work with traveling theater companies, through which he took part in operas, operettas, and stage plays. In 1913, Lugosi caught a major break when the most prestigious performing arts venue in his native country—the Budapest-based National Theater of Hungary—cast him in no less than 34 shows. Most of the characters that he played there were small Shakespearean roles such as Rosencrantz in Hamlet and Sir Walter Herbert in Richard III.

2. HE FOUGHT IN WORLD WAR I.

The so-called war to end all wars put Lugosi’s dramatic aspirations on hold. Although being a member of the National Theater exempted him from military service, he voluntarily enlisted in the Austro-Hungarian Army in 1914. Over the next year and a half, he fought against Russian forces as a lieutenant with the 43rd Royal Hungarian Infantry. While serving in the Carpathian mountains, Lugosi was wounded on three separate occasions. Upon healing from his injuries, he left the armed forces in 1916 and gratefully resumed his work with the National Theater.

3. WHEN HE MADE HIS BROADWAY DEBUT, LUGOSI BARELY KNEW ANY ENGLISH.

In December 1920, Lugosi boarded a cargo boat and emigrated to the United States. Two years later, audiences on the Great White Way got their first look at this charismatic stage veteran. Lugosi was cast as Fernando—a suave, Latin lover—in the 1922 Broadway stage play The Red Poppy. At the time, his grasp of the English language was practically nonexistent. Undaunted, Lugosi went over all of his lines with a tutor. Although he couldn’t comprehend their meaning, the actor managed to memorize and phonetically reproduce every single syllable that he was supposed to deliver on stage.

4. UNIVERSAL DIDN’T WANT TO CAST HIM AS COUNT DRACULA.

The year 1927 saw Bela Lugosi sink his teeth into the role of a lifetime. A play based on the novel Dracula by Bram Stoker had opened in London in 1924. Sensing its potential, Horace Liveright, an American producer, decided to create an U.S. version of the show. Over the summer of 1927, Lugosi was cast as the blood-sucking Count Dracula. For him, the part represented a real challenge. In Lugosi’s own words, “It was a complete change from the usual romantic characters I was playing, but it was a success.” It certainly was. Enhanced by his presence, the American Dracula remained on Broadway for a full year, then spent two years touring the country.

Impressed by its box office prowess, Universal decided to adapt the show into a major motion picture in 1930. Horror fans might be surprised to learn that when the studio began the process of casting this movie’s vampiric villain, Lugosi was not their first choice. At the time, Lugosi was still a relative unknown, which made director Tod Browning more than a little hesitant to offer him the job. A number of established actors were all considered before the man who’d played Dracula on Broadway was tapped to immortalize his biting performance on film.

5. MOST OF HIS DRACULA-RELATED FAN MAIL CAME FROM WOMEN.

The recent Twilight phenomenon is not without historical precedent. Lugosi estimated that, while he was playing the Count on Broadway, more than 97 percent of the fan letters he received were penned by female admirers. A 1932 Universal press book quotes him as saying, “When I was on the stage in Dracula, my audiences were composed mostly of women.” Moreover, Lugosi contended that most of the men who’d attended his show had merely been dragged there by female companions.   

6. HE TURNED DOWN THE ROLE OF FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER.

Released in 1931, Dracula quickly became one of the year's biggest hits for Universal (some film historians even argue that the movie single-handedly rescued the ailing studio from bankruptcy). Furthermore, its astronomical success transformed Lugosi into a household name for the first time in his career. Regrettably for him, though, he’d soon miss the chance to star in another smash. Pleased by Dracula’s box office showing, Universal green-lit a new cinematic adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Lugosi seemed like the natural choice to play the monster, but because the poor brute had few lines and would be caked in layers of thick makeup, the actor rejected the job offer. As far as Lugosi was concerned, the character was better suited for some “half-wit extra” than a serious actor. Once the superstar tossed Frankenstein aside, the part was given to a little-known actor named Boris Karloff.

Moviegoers eventually did get to see Lugosi play the bolt-necked corpse in the 1943 cult classic Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man. According to some sources, he strongly detested the guttural scream that the script forced him to emit at regular intervals. “That yell is the worst thing about the part. You feel like a big jerk every time you do it!” Lugosi allegedly complained.

7. LUGOSI’S RELATIONSHIP WITH BORIS KARLOFF WAS MORE CORDIAL THAN IT’S USUALLY MADE OUT TO BE.

It’s often reported that the two horror icons were embittered rivals. In reality, however, Karloff and Lugosi seemed to have harbored some mutual respect—and perhaps even affection for one another. The dynamic duo co-starred in five films together, the first of which was 1934’s The Black Cat; Karloff claimed that, on set, Lugosi was “Suspicious of tricks, fearful of what he regarded as scene stealing. Later on, when he realized I didn’t go in for such nonsense, we became friends.” During one of their later collaborations, Lugosi told the press “we laughed over my sad mistake and his good fortune as Frankenstein is concerned.”

That being said, Lugosi probably didn’t appreciate the fact that in every single film which featured both actors, Karloff got top billing. Also, he once privately remarked, “If it hadn’t been for Boris Karloff, I could have had a corner on the horror market.”

8. HE LOVED SOCCER.

In 1935, Lugosi was named Honorary President of the Los Angeles Soccer League. An avid fan, he was regularly seen at Loyola Stadium, where he’d occasionally kick off the first ball during games held there. Also, on top of donating funds to certain Hungarian teams, Lugosi helped finance the Los Angeles Magyar soccer club. When the team won a state championship in 1935, one newspaper wrote that the players were “headed back to Dracula’s castle with the state cup.” [PDF]

9. HE WAS A HARDCORE STAMP COLLECTOR.

Lugosi's fourth wife, Lillian Arch, claimed that Lugosi maintained a collection of more than 150,000 stamps. Once, on a 1944 trip to Boston, he told the press that he intended to visit all 18 of the city's resident philately dealers. “Stamp collecting,” Lugosi declared, “is a hobby which may cost you as much as 10 percent of your investment. You can always sell your stamps with not more than a 10 percent loss. Sometimes, you can even make money.” Fittingly enough, the image of Lugosi’s iconic Dracula appeared on a commemorative stamp issued by the post office in 1997.

10. LUGOSI ALMOST DIDN’T APPEAR IN ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN—BECAUSE THE STUDIO THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD.

The role of Count Dracula in this 1948 blockbuster was nearly given to Ian Keith—who was considered for the same role in the 1931 Dracula movie. Being a good sport, Lugosi helped promote the horror-comedy by making a special guest appearance on The Abbott and Costello Show. While playing himself in one memorable sketch, the famed actor claimed to eat rattlesnake burgers for dinner and “shrouded wheat” for breakfast.

11. A CHIROPRACTOR FILLED IN FOR HIM IN PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE.

Toward the end of his life, Lugosi worked on three ultra-low-budget science fiction pictures with Ed Wood, a man who’s been posthumously embraced as the worst director of all time. In the 1953 transvestite picture Glen or Glenda?, Lugosi plays a cryptic narrator who offers such random and unsolicited bits of advice as “Beware of the big, green dragon who sits on your doorstep.” Then came 1955’s Bride of the Monster, in which Lugosi played a mad scientist who ends up doing battle with a (suspiciously limp) giant octopus.

Before long, Wood had cooked up around half a dozen concepts for new films, all starring Lugosi. At some point in the spring of 1956, the director shot some quick footage of the actor wandering around a suburban neighborhood, clad in a baggy cloak. This proved to be the last time that the star would ever appear on film. Lugosi died of a heart attack on August 16, 1956;  he was 73 years old.

Three years after Lugosi's passing, this footage was spliced into a cult classic that Wood came to regard as his “pride and joy.” Plan 9 From Outer Space tells the twisted tale of extraterrestrial environmentalists who turn newly-deceased human beings into murderous zombies. Since Lugosi could obviously no longer play his character, Wood hired a stand-in for some additional scenes. Unfortunately, the man who was given this job—California chiropractor Tom Mason—was several inches taller than Lugosi. In an attempt to hide the height difference, Wood instructed Mason to constantly hunch over. Also, Mason always kept his face hidden behind a cloak.

12. HE WAS BURIED IN HIS DRACULA CAPE.

Although Lugosi resented the years of typecasting that followed his breakout performance in Dracula, he asked to be laid to rest wearing the Count’s signature garment. Lugosi was buried under a simple tombstone at California's Holy Cross Cemetery.

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